Chapter 85

The setting sun cast swathes of orange-red light across the cobblestone streets of King’s Landing. Aegor, Tyrion, and Arya, along with one red-robed Lannister guard and one grey-cloaked Stark guard for each of the latter two, emerged from the workshop. They led their horses as they strolled back toward the inn, chatting and laughing along the way.

Over the past month, this eclectic group of individuals—who might never have crossed paths otherwise—had grown familiar with one another. Even Tyrion’s two attendants would nod amicably at the Stark "nanny" who escorted Arya to and from her lessons, occasionally exchanging a few idle words.
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Aegor’s expression was relaxed. He had been in King’s Landing for over a month, and with Tyrion’s wholehearted assistance in networking, sales of Night’s Watch bonds had reached nearly two thousand gold dragons. Without the promise of absurd returns typical of a Ponzi scheme, word-of-mouth spread slowly. Moreover, the concept of "investment" was virtually alien in Westeros. So far, there had not been a single instance of a customer voluntarily seeking out a bond purchase.

Even among Tyrion’s connections, most buyers—save for the occasional exception like Jaime Lannister—only purchased the minimum investment of one hundred dragons.

This steady but unspectacular pace did have one advantage: most of the customers who had bought bonds did so out of respect for Tyrion, reasoning that if they lost the money, they could always hold House Lannister accountable. Under such circumstances, Aegor wasn’t particularly worried about a sudden mass of creditors demanding repayment.

Two thousand gold dragons wasn’t an astronomical sum, but combined with Tyrion’s personal wealth, it was substantial—enough to accomplish many things, provided there was no rebellion or grandiose construction projects.

For instance, purchasing a large plot of land outside the city, procuring equipment, and hiring workers to establish a large workshop—a factory, really—that combined papermaking and printing. This venture could dominate the production and trade of religious texts, calendars, and novels in King’s Landing and the Crownlands for a long time.

If Tyrion could also attract investors, Aegor could ensure that even as the business expanded, there would still be plenty of liquid capital for emergencies.

Securing a foothold in King’s Landing was essentially a foregone conclusion. From here, the only question was how much they could earn and how far Aegor and Tyrion’s collaboration would go.
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As Arya’s nominal mentor, Aegor had tried everything to encourage her to dress like a proper young lady, refrain from swearing, avoid acting crudely, and behave appropriately in different situations. Unfortunately, nothing could curb her habit of blurting out whatever was on her mind. At this moment, Aegor had no idea what she had said to Tyrion, but the two of them were laughing again. Despite their age difference, the older man and the spirited girl had unexpectedly become fast friends. In the original storyline, they had crossed paths briefly before going their separate ways. But now, thanks to a certain transmigrator’s meddling, the two had met at the Night’s Watch office and become one of the rare close connections between the rival Lannister and Stark families.

If their ages weren’t so far apart, and if Aegor weren’t around to witness their interactions every day, he might have suspected this to be one of those melodramatic "love bridging family feuds" clichés.

Turning his head, Aegor remembered the other person trailing silently behind him. Nina, looking like a bashful young wife, followed without a word, her head lowered and her expression shy.
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Spending his days with people like Tyrion and Arya—one treating him as a partner, the other calling him "teacher"—it was no wonder ordinary folks might mistakenly think of him as a "great man." That awe and nervousness were understandable. Nina, however, was not an ordinary girl. Intelligent and literate, she was both interesting and useful. To ease the tension and build rapport, Aegor decided to start a conversation.

“Nina, tell me, have you and your brother made any progress in reducing costs?”

“Ah.” She startled slightly and glanced at him before quickly lowering her eyes. “We have some ideas, but we haven’t tried them yet. I’m not sure if they’ll work…”

Aegor was certain—her face had turned a little red.

He wasn’t some clueless virgin who had never held a girl’s hand. Before transmigrating, he might have already been a father by now. It didn’t take much thought to recognize the signs: this wasn’t the nervousness of meeting a powerful figure. It was more like the flustered excitement of facing a crush. Could Tyrion have been right? Did this girl fancy him?

It wasn’t impossible. While Aegor was technically a mere soldier, since arriving in King’s Landing, he had been associating with Hand of the King figures, wealthy knights, and Crownlands nobles. He had also put effort into presenting himself well—his attire, manners, and demeanor were likely more polished than those of some impoverished lords. Playing the role of benefactor and patron in front of Nina only added to his allure. In this backward society, where standards were low, attracting a sixteen- or seventeen-year-old girl experiencing her first crush wasn’t surprising.

The thought amused Aegor, and he let out a faint, bitter smile. Before his transmigration, his family had been middle-class at best, and his appearance was merely average. He could tick about one and a half boxes out of "tall, rich, and handsome," which was enough to find a wife but never made him particularly popular with women. Experiencing this newfound attention was novel.

“Well,” he said kindly, “ideas are never guaranteed to work. Just tell me what you’re thinking, and I’ll help you figure it out.”
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While Nina explained her thoughts in a mix of technical jargon he half-understood, Aegor took the opportunity to study her openly. Her strikingly bright eyes had left a deep impression on him, but even setting that aside, she was undeniably attractive: slim and delicate beneath her thin clothing, with long lashes, a small nose, faint dimples even when she wasn’t smiling, and soft, rosy skin. She was like a freshly bloomed lotus flower—pure and untainted.

In modern times, someone like her wouldn’t be rare. But in Westeros, she was like a pearl in the sand, a miraculous existence. Aegor had met many beautiful women in this world—queens, noble ladies, even the enchanting Melisandre. But they were either untouchable or dangerous. Now, here was a charming, approachable girl who posed no such risks. It was enough to make him momentarily distracted.

He quickly pushed the thought away. He had more important things to focus on than letting his hormones lead him astray. The world was full of women; coveting someone who could genuinely assist him was unwise.

Still, there was no harm in friendly conversation. He smiled warmly and encouraged her: “Money isn’t an issue. Go ahead and try whatever you think might work. Don’t be afraid of failure.”

Nina, who wasn’t the type to stay shy for long, soon relaxed. Her initial awkwardness melted away, and she began stealing curious glances at him, wondering if all members of the Night’s Watch were as refined and charming as her "boss."
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After some lighthearted conversation, they arrived at the Night’s Watch office. Although Nina wasn’t a major investor, Aegor and Tyrion decided to formalize things by having her sign a proper "investment bond." Retaining capable people required sincerity, not empty gestures, and this also served as a rehearsal for when real investors came knocking.

Before they could proceed, one of the office staff approached. “My lord, a letter from the Lord Commander.”
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So soon? It had only been a dozen days since the last correspondence.

Aegor took the letter, noting that the wax seal had already been broken. Had it been the local maester or perhaps Jaqen H’ghar snooping on Night’s Watch affairs?

He glanced at the Braavosi spy feigning nonchalance nearby, then unfolded the letter.

As long as it wasn’t a summons back to the Wall, the contents hardly mattered.
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A few seconds later, Aegor looked up and flashed Tyrion an ambiguous smile.

“What’s the good news?” Tyrion asked, unimpressed. He had drafted the letter himself and could guess most of its contents. “Has Mormont delayed the timing of the northern expedition and explained his reasoning?”

Aegor nodded, still smiling.

“Have they officially recognized you as the Chief Logistics Officer of the Night’s Watch?”

Another nod, and another smug smile.

“Have they caught a wight?”

“Not yet,” Aegor replied, setting the letter aside. It was mostly good news, though the final line held a minor setback he had anticipated. “But they’re trying.”

“Enough of this,” he continued. “Let’s head inside and sign those investment bonds!”